


The Full Moon Illuminates the Darkness in Our Lives...

by AmandaHuffleduck



Category: Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, hiddlesworth - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolves, Hiddlesworth, M/M, Paranormal AU, Tropes, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christopher Hemsworth, the Vampire Prince of East Anglia, is being interviewed for a documentary. He is a charismatic, powerful and dignified figure.</p><p>His boisterous werewolf boyfriend? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter of Crooked is being worked on. In the meantime, have this crack.
> 
> Done in the style of [ 'What We Do In The Shadows' ](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3416742/). 
> 
> [The Prince. ](http://static.socialitelife.com/uploads/2012/10/09/chris-hemsworth-prestige-magazine-10092012-01.jpeg) 
> 
> [And the Pup.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/09/13/37/091337e401c39060b9421660a80d5d70.jpg)
> 
> Unbetad.

OPENING SHOT: Night time. An imposing Victorian Gothic Style lodge sits resplendent under flood lights.

INTERIOR: the vampire prince of east Anglia, CHRISTOPHER HEMSWORTH, lounges on a red velvet divan. His hair is very long, blond and shining in the lamplight. It’s caught back in a pony tail but a few strands have artfully come loose to frame his handsome face and blue eyes.

Janelle (Interviewer): I - We would like to thank you, your Highness, for giving us the opportunity to speak with you.

The Prince: Not at all. I believe it is past time to dispel the damaging superstitions that have kept our people apart for centuries. And please – [he smiles. It is dazzling] Call me Christopher.

Janelle: Oh, ah, _ha ha_ , thank you, _Christopher_. [desperately trying to stay cool and professional in the face of such overwhelming beauty]

Janelle: Before we start, is there anything, any subject you would rather we didn’t touch? I’m not quite sure of the etiquette here.

The Prince: Ask me anything. I will let you know if I don’t wish to answer.

Janelle: Thank you. Okay. First, how long have you been the Prince in East Anglia, and how did you come to the position?

The Prince: I have reigned here for one hundred and twenty-two years. I... won the title from the previous Prince.

Janelle: ‘Won’?

The Prince: We fought. [another dazzling smile] I was stronger.

Janelle: Of course... [she is staring at the Prince, who is smiling at her in gentle amusement]

Izzy (Cameraman) : [voice from off-camera] _Janelle. Psst. Janelle!_

Janelle: [snapping back, flustered] Oh, I’m so sorry! Where was I...? [consults clipboard]

Janelle: And what do you do, as Prince? I understand there’s a Queen you answer to?

The Prince: My role as Prince is much the same as a human with the title. I take responsibility for my subjects, and what happens within my realm. I advise, I guide, and along with the other Princes, provide counsel to our Queen if she requests it. It is not easy, but I willingly accept the burden.

Janelle: Wow. [shakes herself] I suspect you’re a bit more hands-on than any of our Princes have been for a while. 

The Prince: [smiling] Possibly. We have watched the evolution of Human politics with great interest.

Janelle: Not much is known in the Human world about vampires – indeed, many people have denied your existence for years - 

The Prince: [nods and affects a more sombre expression] 

Janelle: - but now that you’re ‘out’, so to speak, as a race, just how open are you going to be?

The Prince: An interesting question, Janelle, thank you. As you know the ‘outing’ of my kind happened by accident only recently, but it’s something that we have fiercely debated amongst ourselves for centuries. On the one hand, do we stay quiet and hidden, and risk a terrible backlash, a potential genocide, if we’re discovered? On the other, do we reveal ourselves and prove that at heart, we’re not all that different from you? That we can live in harmony for the benefit of both our peo –

[The door bursts open and a young man bounds in. He is smiling broadly, and dressed casually. He seems to be made up mostly of long limbs, blond curls and enthusiasm]

Young Man: Chris! I’ve just heard the most amazing – [spots the human crew] _Oh!_ Sorry!

Young Man: [looking at The Prince. Stage whispers] Was this _today_?

[The Prince arches an eyebrow]

Young Man: Well, I’ll get out of your hair then. I’m Tom, by the way, very pleased to meet you. [He bounces forward to shake Janelle’s hand, then Izzy’s, then Jonston’s (Sound Recordist)] 

[Behind him, the Prince clears his throat very softly]

Tom: Right! [pointing back over his shoulder, towards the corridor] I’ll just be in the, uh... Would anyone like a cup of tea? Coffee?

[The Prince’s throat clearing is slightly louder and carries a distinct note of displeasure]

Tom: Okay, bye! [backs out of the room, closing the door behind him]

[The Prince smiles at Janelle, but it seems strained]

The Prince: My... associate. Thomas. Please forgive the interruption. Where were we?

Janelle: You were telling us about the debate on whether to reveal yourselves or not?

The Prince: Ah yes – 

[There is a knock on the door]

The Prince: [snarls] _WHAT?_ [the humans all jump]

[An entirely non-descript little gray man speaks from the doorway]

Servant: A telephone call for you, Your Highness. Blencowe. He says it’s important.

The Prince: [sighing audibly] Very well. [turning to the humans] Would you mind going with Perkins here to the kitchen? He’ll provide you with refreshments. Hopefully this won’t take long. [he reaches for an old-fashioned but elegant rotary phone on the small table beside the divan]

Janelle: Oh, of course! 

[the humans exit the room. As Perkins closes the door behind them The Prince can be heard just audibly:]

The Prince: _What? This better not be about the bloody sheep again..._

[the camera continues recording as they follow the servant down the high-ceilinged hallway. There are more lamps out here; the warm, honey-gold light richly illuminates the textured wall-paper]

Janelle: Excuse me? Perkins, was it?

Perkins: Yes, miss? 

[he’s moving quite fast. The humans almost have to trot to keep up]

Janelle: How long have you been with the Prince?

Perkins: I’ve had the honour and pleasure of serving his Highness for forty years, miss.

[He turns sharply to the left, taking them through a wide, plain door into what is obviously the kitchen. The lighting in here is provided by electric bulbs, the contrast between this and the lamplight is stark. The spotless white wall tiles glow. Tom is sitting at the table, a sandwich halfway to his mouth]

Tom: Oh, hello! Please sit down. [he nods towards the extra wooden chairs]

Tom: Sudden business for Chris, _er_ , his Highness? [he looks sympathetic] Yes, that happens a lot I’m afraid. Would you like some tea...?

Perkins: I’ll see to it, Master Thomas.

Tom: [beaming at the servant] Thank you so much!

Janelle: You’ll have to forgive my curiosity, but who are you? The Prince said you were his ‘associate’?

Tom: [laughing] He would say _that_ , yes! I’m his boyfriend, actually.

Janelle: Oh. [clearly surprised] Where did you meet?

Tom: Terribly cliché, but in a night club. I was dancing, having a great time, then this _gorgeous_ man comes over and sweeps me off my feet!

Janelle: [not quite giggling] Very romantic!

Tom: We-e-ell, at first I thought he was going to kill me but turns out it was just particularly vigorous foreplay.

Janelle: You’re... human?

Tom: Gosh, no. I’m a werewolf.

[the frame jerks as Izzy reacts]

Izzy [from off-camera]: Wait, wait. Aren’t vampires and werewolves mortal enemies?

Tom: Ye-e-es. [he scratches behind his ear] We tend to be enemies or servants. Depends on where you are.

Izzy: In England?

Tom: Oh, definitely enemies. Chris and my relationship is quite unusual in that respect. 

Jonston: How were you turned? If it’s not a personal question? 

Tom: Another cliché, I’m afraid! Jogging at night, in the full moon, in a place where eeeveryone said not to go because it was dangerous. I thought they just meant there was a murderer or a rapist there or something. [he shrugs. He is adorable]

Jonston: It must’ve been... I can’t imagine how it must’ve been.

Tom: [sighs] It was a difficult time. I was... lost, you know? I had no idea what to do, where to go. I kept away from my family and friends because I didn’t want to hurt them.

Jonston: But... it worked out okay?

Tom: [cheerfully] Oh yes. My maker - the were who turned me - finally caught up with me. She wasn’t pleased about my running and hiding. It’d made it very difficult for her to fulfil her obligation to me, but she taught me everything I needed to know to be safe – or as safe as possible – and I was able to go back to my life, more or less. [he looks down] I mean, it’s never going to be the same, and there’s a lot of discrimination against my kind, but on the whole I’m optimistic. [he looks up and grins] And of course, there’s _Chris_... 

Janelle: [jumping in] Yes, tell us about him!

Izzy: [under his breath] _Oh, here we go_. 

Tom: [face lighting up. Adorably] I’m so lucky! He’s a- _mazing_! It’s not just all the super sexy he’s got going on, but he’s also super intelligent, super honourable, and so broad-minded! Honestly, vampires are such stick-in-the-muds, they hate change and are suspicious of ‘new ideas’, but Chris is very progressive, particularly given the period he’s from.

Janelle: [leaning forward, all pretence of professionalism out the window] Ooh, when was that?

Tom: He was a convict in an Australian penal colony in the late 1800s.

[Janelle squeaks excitedly and Tom beams]

Tom: I know, right! Looking at him now you wouldn’t think he was ever anything other than a Prince, but vampires can be such terrible snobs! It took a long time for Chris to gain acceptance - 

[the kitchen door slams open. The Prince is there, glowering at the werewolf. Or it could be that the electric light is hard on his eyes. Tom yips in surprise but recovers quickly]

The Prince: _Thomas!_ Enough!

[Tom springs to his feet and approaches the furious Prince completely without fear]

Tom: You shouldn’t be ashamed of your origins, darling! You’ve come so far, and done so much!

The Prince: [self-conscious] ... I’m not. Ashamed.

Tom: [resting his palms on the Prince’s chest and gazing earnestly in to his eyes. He is only a couple of inches shorter than the vampire] And you’re _honest_ about where you come from. Francois claims he’s a French nobleman who escaped the guillotine. Bollocks! He was a North Country grain merchant who regularly ripped of his customers!

The Prince: ... what?

Tom: Belvedere Le Grande? London rat-catcher. Seriously, my love, you have nothing to be ashamed of!

The Prince: How do you know all this?

Tom: While you lot are having your Important Vampire Meetings, I’m in here having tea and cake with their thralls.

The Prince: [scowling] The thralls... _gossip_?

Tom: [laughing] All servants do, darling! Some more than others, admittedly, but I honestly don’t blame them. They’re treated so poorly! All they want is to have someone to talk _with_ , not _at_ them. No wonder they open up to me!

The Prince: Be that as it may, I wish you would remember the dignity of my position - 

[Tom presses closer to the Prince. His voice has dropped to a murmur but is still able to be picked up by the excellent sound equipment]

Tom: _Which position would that be? The one where my knees are by my ears and your tongue’s in my arse?_

[the Prince snarls, snapping open his mouth. His fangs have popped out. Tom’s answering grin is feral, dangerous. His lips have pulled back enough to reveal that, yes, his canine teeth are longer than normal]

The Prince: [looks at the humans. His eyes are blood red] _Get out_.

Perkins: [steps forward, startling the humans who’d forgotten he was there] If you wouldn’t mind following me, please, miss, sirs?

[he hustles them out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Behind them they can hear an alarming blend of growls and snarls, and things crashing to the floor]

Perkins: [showing them out the front door] Thank you for coming. No doubt his Highness will call to reschedule. Good night.

[the door is shut in their faces]

Janelle: [looking bemusedly to camera] Um...

[an astonishingly loud, eerie howl makes them all jump]

Jonston: All right, that’s it, we’re leaving. Izzy, turn that off. We’re not indulging her fangirling any more tonight!

[screen abruptly goes black]


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So where did it all begin? Tom mentioned something about a nightclub?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like I'm not done with these two yet. Welcome to the sporadic adventures of a boy and his ~~dog~~ wolf.
> 
> Thanks to those who gave me gentle encouragement to continue in their comments.
> 
> (And just a warning: this in not going to update with any sort of regularity. Subscribe to be notified when it does!)

He didn’t go hunting very often anymore, the responsibilities of his rank and the attendant time constraints made it something of an indulgence, especially since food was plentiful and served to him whenever he desired, usually in crystal and gold. But at heart he was a predator and hunting satisfied something primal in his soul, or what was left of it.

He was out on his own, too, something equally rare. His people had enemies, _he_ had enemies, but Chris – Vampire Prince of East Anglia – surveyed the human patrons of the throbbing night club and concluded that he was the most dangerous thing here. He didn’t think there was going to be a problem.

He held a glass of the best whiskey on offer, taking a small sip every now and again, mostly for show even though it was one of the few things he could still taste. Did he miss food, drink? For the main part, no, he’d largely forgotten what regular food tasted like and he certainly didn’t crave it, besides, no human food, no matter how delectable could compare to the sublime sensation of fresh blood in your mouth.

The club was packed, loud to Chris’ heightened senses with the heartbeats of its patrons, throbbing in a sub audible hum beneath the music. The crowd was mostly young, mostly intoxicated by the chemicals their bodies were producing, or the chemicals they were imbibing, moving in thrall to the swirl of colours, lights and sound.

Through a gap in the throng Chris saw him, a young male, bouncing on his toes to the beat, his arms in the air, t-shirt riding up and up his torso exposing a flat, toned stomach. His eyes were half-closed as he melded with the music. He was pulsing with life. _Perfect_.

The crowd parted before Chris, an instinctive response to the danger they only subconsciously recognised. Many admiring looks were thrown his way, unsurprisingly; he was amongst the tallest here, and almost certainly the most attractive. That wasn’t just ego talking, he _was_ magnetic, alluring, it was part of his natural arsenal. Even the drabbest humans tended to become something more when they were turned and Chris as a human had been far from drab.

The boy’s eyes opened as he approached and he grinned, broad and wild, watching him with interest as he stepped in to his personal space, right up close. Chris could smell the lemon-based cleansers the boy had used, the beer he’d drunk, the dark chocolate he’d eaten. He was sweating from exertion, blond curls lying damply against his forehead and neck. Chris’ big hands settled on sharp hips, tugging him close until they were almost belly to belly. The boy was only a couple of inches shorter than him, but much, much leaner.

He draped his arms over Chris’ shoulders and they danced, if it could be called such, for several minutes. Chris pushed forward, his hips just brushing the boy’s and he smirked to find him hard in his jeans. Oddly though, the boy smirked back, his blue eyes clear and bright, _knowing_. He was showing no signs of being enraptured, of falling under the spell the vampire was accustomed to weaving to gain compliance. No matter, the beguilement didn’t work on all humans; Chris would just have to rely on his good looks and sexual potency to snare the prey. 

“Like to go somewhere?” He had to put his mouth to the boy’s ear and almost shout to make himself heard over the music.

“Sure!”

“My car’s just up the road...”

The silence outside of the club was deep in comparison but he could still feel the beat thumping up through the soles of his hand-stitched Italian boots. Holding the boy’s hand he part-dragged him, laughing, aroused, around the corner to...

“ _Wow_! Is that yours?”

Chris made a point of buying a new car every year – if you had the money why not spend it? - and the latest was a new release Jaguar XE, silver and sleek. Grinning, he opened the back door, revealing a plush interior of black with deep red accents.

“This is gorgeous!” The boy exclaimed, peering inside. “We going for a ride?”

“No.” 

Chris pushed him just hard enough that he stumbled forward, laughing as he landed in an inelegant sprawl over the generous rear seat. Chris followed, shutting the door behind him then stretching out over the boy, who’d wriggled around so he was lying on his back, covering his body with his own, pinning him while nuzzling at his throat, one hand moving over his crotch, kneading and squeezing.

“All right then.” The boy’s eyes were almost luminous in the near-dark. “My name’s Tom.” He murmured against his mouth.

“Chris.”

“Wait, wait! My shoes!” The boy – Tom - laughed as Chris flicked open the button at the waist of his jeans. Chris paused while Tom somehow managed to toe off his sneakers, leaving his feet bare. 

“Go.” Tom was grinning, his chest rising and falling rapidly in his growing excitement.

Chris efficiently stripped him naked, t-shirt, jeans and underwear dumped to the side, then manhandled him on to his hands and knees with a casual strength that made the boy’s breath hitch. He wrapped a hand gently around his long throat, pulling him to lie back against his chest while he reached over Tom’s hip to fondle his penis. Chris gently eased the boy’s head to one side, stretching out his neck and making the vein stand prominent.

His fangs popped, and a split second later they’d sunk in to the taut skin over the jugular as the boy keened.

_Blergh! Werewolf? What the hell?_

Chris’ mind raced: he could snap the creature’s neck, dump the body in the trunk then go back to hunting or...

The boy was still keening, grinding back against him and pleading – for mercy, Chris initially thinks, then realises it’s for something else entirely. He withdraws his fangs and licks over the puncture wounds to close them, grimacing at the gamey taste of tainted blood.

... _or_ he could just fuck him. He wasn’t dangerously hungry, and there were other appetites that needed sating. 

“Hold on.” Tom gasps, pulling away from the grip around his neck then bending at the waist, arse in the air invitingly while he fumbles around for his jeans in the footwell. “Supplies. Here somewhere... _Yes_!” 

He twists around so he can present Chris with a wrapped condom and two packets of lube. 

“Do you want to prep me, or would you rather I do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

Chris is somewhat perfunctory, admittedly, shoving his fingers in to the boy’s arse without a great deal of care, but he opens up nice and quick and is soon pushing back.

“No. Enough. Come on.” Tom whines.

Chris loosens his clothes only as much as necessary to get his cock out and deftly rolls on the condom.

“Ready?”

He doesn’t wait for Tom’s response, pushing straight back in, confident that the boy, the _werewolf_ , can take the rough treatment. He’ll be less fragile than a human, and quicker to heal. 

“Oh fuck, yes.” The boy responds with a low, growling moan as he arches his back. 

Chris grabs his shoulders, anchoring himself and they move together mindlessly for an unknowable amount of time, Tom leaning up against the opposite door, head down and panting, seemingly content to fuck himself on Chris’ cock and make no attempt to hurry things along. Chris, thrusting wildly as he approaches the end, grabs the boy’s penis in a tight grip and he convulses, already so close. Chris follows a moment later and then they collapse together sideways on to the suede seat. 

Tom’s harsh breathing settles quickly and he wriggles a little so Chris slips free of his body. Chris watches as the boy’s eyes drift closed and finds himself curiously reluctant to move. He has to be practical though.

“Do you need a lift anywhere?” He murmurs in to Tom’s neck.

“Nah, I’m good.” The boys lips twist downwards briefly, so that Chris isn’t sure if he was expecting more. “It’s a good night to walk.”

Tom pulls on his clothes, dressing himself as efficiently as he’d been undressed, and because now he knows what he’s looking at Chris can spot the scars of the bite that turned him. There, on the left of his ribcage, just below his armpit. How had he survived that? It must’ve hurt like the devil. 

Tom opens the door and steps out, standing to stretch luxuriously to his full height. Chris’ eyes are drawn down once again to his navel.

“You should probably get going.” Tom nods his head towards the horizon. “Not that long ‘til sun up."

Chris freezes, wary bordering on alarmed. He hadn’t planned on killing the creature but he would without a qualm if threatened.

Tom touches his fingers to his neck, just at the spot where Chris had attempted to feed. 

“The fangs were a bit of a giveaway.” His nose wrinkles as he grins. “See ya.”

Then he turns and lopes away, disappearing in to the shadows further down the street.

Chris straightens his clothing and discards the condom as he contemplates what happens next. He could go back in to the club and try to find another meal? Or not: he’s likely to be remembered there. He could try his luck somewhere else? But that will take time and he’ll be unlikely to get home before sunrise. Not that that’s too much of a problem: the boot of his car is lightproof, armoured and lockable from the inside. He’s slept quite comfortably in there before.

No, he’ll go home; it’s a forty minute drive and he doesn’t _have_ to feed after all.

As he settles in behind the wheel he notices an incongruous scrap of yellow standing out against the red and black upholstery of the front passenger seat. It’s one of those ‘sticky’ notes, there’s a mobile number written in purple ink, and a name: Tom.

Well.

~~~oOo~~~

Perkins greets him at the door.

“Have you fed, your Highness?”

“Alas, no, didn’t quite get ‘round to it.”

“Very good, sir, make yourself comfortable and I will be in shortly with sustenance.”

Chris showers briefly, washing away the scent of the boy before climbing naked in to his monstrously huge bed with it’s pure cotton sheets and soft, soft velvet coverlet. He strokes his fingers against the nap of the fabric and smiles as he smoothes it back down. He’s learnt to appreciate such things. 

His bedroom is a large windowless room, sumptuously furnished in silvers and blues and reds. The only entrance – save for the secret trapdoor beneath the 18th century silk rug – is a set of double doors, heavy oak, that lock from the inside. It’s a very elegant tomb, something he never could’ve dreamed of aspiring to in his human life.

Chris savours the blood he’s served from the decanter. One of the volunteers, he thinks, the taste is familiar. He notices the fine lines creasing his servant’s face, the paper-like texture of his skin.

“How long has it been, Perkins?”

“Some weeks, your Highness.”

Chris tuts.

“You must tell me when you’ve need. I can’t have you turning to dust before I’m ready.”

“Or at least before my successor is trained, your Highness.” 

The little man’s eyes follow Chris’ fingertip as it travels to the vampire’s mouth, there to be pierced by a fang, a single drop of dark fluid welling up from the puncture. Chris holds it out to him, smiling.

Perkins licks the drop from the Prince’s cold skin, being careful to not touch any more of him than necessary. His eyes close in bliss as the life-giving scrap is absorbed in to his body, revitalising and enlivening, the lines on his face smoothing out as Chris watches.

“Thank you, your Highness. Sleep well.”

“Oh.” The Prince plucks up the small piece of yellow paper he’d brought in from the car. “Find out as much about this as you can, if you would.”

“Certainly, your Highness. Hopefully I’ll have something for you when you wake.”

His servant leaves the room with a noticeable bounce in his step, pausing to set the locks before he steps outside and closes the doors. Chris settles back in his bed, aware of the rising sun tugging at his consciousness, pulling him down to sleep. The last thing he thinks about as he closes his eyes, is the feel of the young werewolf’s body shuddering around him as he climaxed...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was about time we checked in on these two dorks...

The vampire prince of East Anglia sipped his morning glass of blood – ‘morning’ of course, being relative – and contemplated the old-fashioned manilla folder his thrall had included with the breakfast tray. There was a mountain of official nonsense he had to attend to, but he could waste five minutes on this, surely?

_Thomas William Hiddleston. Current age: 22. Lives with his parents..._

Chris skimmed the contents.

_...good schools, excellent marks, dropped out of a double major of European History/English Literature a year in to the course_ (probably when he was turned) _blah blah blah..._

“He’s clan-less?” Chris asked his thrall, who was laying out his clothes with a fastidious eye to colour and texture. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“His maker is unaligned, apparently.” Perkins elaborated. “And no clan has come forward to claim him.”

Chris pondered this: on the plus side it meant that if – if – he decided to involve himself with the young werewolf again – it was most certainly an _if_ – he probably wouldn’t be challenged. And on the minus side...? _Werewolf_. 

He closed the file and set it aside. He’d give it some thought, contacting the boy again, but not _too_ much thought; in his position it would be foolish, and imprudent, and all sorts of other belittling adjectives, that would inform as to the stupidness of the idea. He was very busy and important, he didn’t have time to indulge himself with a lesser being, no matter how enticing the creature was. 

Chris drained his glass of blood then resignedly poured himself another. Dammit. He knew full well he was going to call him. But not just yet. He wasn’t that pathetic.

~~~oOo~~~

All in all he managed to put it off for over a week, his resolve aided by a full moon - when there was no point calling a _werewolf_ \- but eventually he had to be honest with himself that he was dithering, and this was anathema to the strong, decisive persona he’d cultivated so carefully for so long...

_Fine, fine._

Tom’s phone was ringing – Chris _wasn’t_ pacing – with luck he’d only have to leave a message...

“Hello, Tom speaking!”

Hah. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. 

“Tom, hi. It’s Chris.”

He knew he should’ve rung during the Full.

“Chris! Hi!” The boy’s voice was deeper than he remembered and delightfully throaty. “Good to hear from you! How’ve you been?”

“Busy. I was wondering if you’d like to go for a drink?”

“Love to! I’m free tomorrow night, and Wednesday night.”

“Tomorrow night sounds fine.” Chris caught himself smiling and was infinitely glad there were no witnesses, not even Perkins. 

“There’s a reasonable bar not far from the club where we, _ehehehe_ , met. Would that be convenient...?”

Chris assured him that it would, made a note of the address, organised a time, exchanged goodbyes, and hung up.

He frowned down at the elegantly blended whorls of red and black on the carpet in his study. Was this a date? He sighed: this was a date. _Bloody hell_.

~~~oOo~~~

Chris made sure to arrive first. He arranged with the barman to bring over the selected beverage at his signal, and secured a booth by looming subtly over the couple already there. Thus it was that when Tom ambled in, right on time, Chris was already seated and looking nonchalant with his suit jacket off and a glass of whisky in front of him. Opposite him was a cold beer perspiring quietly on to its little cardboard coaster.

“Hey.” Tom grinned at Chris as he slid in to his seat. “Good to see you!” Then he noticed the drink. “Ooh, thanks! That’s my favourite.”

Chris suspected it might have been; it was what he’d smelt on the boy at the club. Tom took a swig and sighed in appreciation, then he looked Chris square in the eyes.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t notice you’d bitten me? There was blood down my chest.”

“I thought you were human.” Chris replied calmly. “The plan had been to feed then wipe your memory. How was your Full, by the way?”

The werewolf had gone very, very still, his blue eyes very, very wide.

“How did you know?” He whispered.

“Werewolf blood is – “ _disgusting_. “ – distinctive.” Chris consciously held himself still; Tom was clearly frightened. “I didn’t kill you then, I’m not going to kill you now.”

Tom swallowed, licked his lips, released the death grip on the bottle in his hand.

“Thanks.” He shifted in his seat but was still wary. “You didn’t... you didn’t notice... _that_ when we were in the club?”

Chris shook his head.

“Too many other sensory distractions.”

Though on consideration, Chris wondered if he hadn’t picked up the boy’s scent because, as a loner, he didn’t have the accumulated _reek_ of pack.

Tom was relaxing, the colour returning to his face, along with what appeared to be his natural curiosity.

“Why didn’t you... feed?”

Chris lifted his whiskey glass in mock salute.

“You’re indigestible. Congratulations.”

“Yay?” The Boy giggled, then bit his lip, not quite meeting Chris’ eyes. “Were you there to...” 

“I was hunting, yes.” He shrugged. “What about you? Were you ‘hunting’?”

“What? No, I don’t hunt.” Tom’s frown cleared as he finally got what Chris was intimating. He blushed, adorably: Chris thought he might combust. “No, no, I was just there to dance, really. You were a bonus.” He let his gaze drift downwards over Chris’ broad chest impeccably attired in a fitted, cobalt blue, silk blend shirt. “Definitely a bonus...” His eyes snapped back up to the vampire’s face. “Do you have your car?” 

Chris laughed.

“I do. Finish your drink.”

Tom drained his beer in three long swallows – giving his companion an excellent view of his slender throat – then didn’t quite slam the bottle down. 

“Right, then...”

Chris, a big hand splayed at the base of Tom’s throat, pushed the boy back against the side of the Jag then crowded close to pin him with his body. Tom was definitely not fighting and – as Chris’ thigh, shoved tight against his crotch, could attest – he was already hard in his jeans. 

Chris was looking at Tom’s thin lips. Should he kiss him? A kiss meant something different now than a hundred years ago. Good god, had it been that lon – _oh for Christ's sake just kiss him!_

Tom moaned, low and long, his lips parting beneath Chris’ and his hands coming up to tangle in his hair, pulling loose silky strands of blond. He arched back, following the curve of the car, dragging Chris with him, pushing forwards with his hips and grinding, grinding. He startled badly at the sharp beeps that accompanied the doors unlocking, then laughed self-consciously at himself.

“Sorry.” Chris grinned returning the car keys to his jacket. He peeled himself away from Tom just enough to get the rear door open. “After you.”

Tom scrambled inside and was already disrobing; Chris glanced around for witnesses, but they were entirely alone here at the back of the parking lot. Chris locked the doors behind him anyway.

Tom was kneeling naked on the back seat.

“Do we need this?” He flourished a condom.

“Not really.” Chris put his jacket aside. “You can’t infect me and I don’t carry anything.”

“Awesome!” Tom tossed the packet over his shoulder and pounced.

It occurred to Chris that while Tom may be wildly enthusiastic about sex, he didn’t seem to have that much experience. It warmed him, in an odd sort of way, to think that there were things he could teach the boy. Such as, for instance, not everything had to be done in a tearing hurry.

“ _No-o-ow_...”

“ _Shhh_. No.”

Tom was straddling his lap, facing him, writhing back down against the two fingers Chris had in his arse. Or trying to: Chris free arm was wrapped around his waist and holding him still. Tom’s cock was inspiringly hard and leaking fluid all over Chris’ lovely shirt. 

“I don’t need _another_ one!” The werewolf whined when Chris wriggled a third digit in beside the first two.

“You do.” Chris pushed up with his fingers, spreading them gently and grinning as Tom’s head fell back and he groaned. 

There was a goodly amount of lube involved, too, which Chris suspected was probably going to get on his trousers. Perhaps he should’ve undressed fully this time.

“You’re ki-killing meeee.” Tom was finding it hard to maintain a good whine when he couldn’t quite catch his breath.

“So melodramatic.” Chris murmured, leaning forward to nuzzle the boy’s sternum, listening to the rush of his blood and the hammering of his heart. _Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink..._

“Now?” Tom’s eyes were gleaming in the semi-dark.

“Now.” 

“ _Finally_.” Tom huffed, then scowled. “What? No-o-o... Come o-o-on...”

Chris laughed at Tom’s frustrated growl: he had a firm grasp on the boy’s hips, his superior strength not allowing him to impale himself as quickly as he'd like. 

“Patience.” He nipped at the lower edge of a lean pec. 

Tom would’ve grumbled some more but temporarily lost the ability to form words as he was slowly, relentlessly but so slowly, pushed downwards. 

“Oh... oh, fuck.” He managed at last when Chris’ cock was completely sheathed. Tom’s nails were gouging marks in to the leather upholstery. 

“See?” The vampire was smug. “There’s no hurry.”

“Yes, yes. Can we get on with it?” Tom’s rather higher-pitched than normal tone undermined any imperiousness he might have been striving for. He narrowed his eyes as Chris continued to hold him immobile. “What _now_?”

“Trust me.”

With a gentler grip Chris encouraged Tom to move his hips, not just up and down, but side to side, and circling, curling forwards and curving back. The boy was a quick study and before long he was happily experimenting, using his abdominals, thighs and glutes for greater control, finding what worked for him, and what got a reaction out of Chris. His grin when that happened was full of wicked delight. 

Tom’s hands migrated from the car seat to Chris’ shoulders, sliding upwards to his jaw. Chris allowed his face to be tilted up, and allowed himself to be kissed. Tom gasped in to his mouth and his pace increased but his thighs were trembling beneath the vampire’s palms. 

For all his leanness Tom wasn’t exactly light but Chris managed to put him on his back with hardly any effort. That Tom was willing to go certainly helped, and if this change in position meant the werewolf was mainly going to come on himself instead of all over Chris? So sue him, Chris was fond of this shirt. For good measure, as he jerked Tom off to his rowdy finale, he made sure the boy’s penis was definitely pointed away from him.

Tom sprawled, boneless and laid out like sin on the Jag’s black and red leather upholstery, watching through half-shut eyes as Chris finished himself off, smiling gently as the drops hit his stomach. 

Chris was already reaching for the pre-moistened wipes he remembered he had in the compartment between the two front seats.

“Can I give you a lift home?

Tom sigh was muted.

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He accepted the wipes he was handed and proceeded to mop up. Chris, who didn’t have much else to do after cleaning his hand and cock, other than tuck himself away and zip up, sat back out of the way as the werewolf gathered his clothes and got dressed. He stepped out of the car when Tom was done, so he wouldn’t have to crawl over him.

They stood close, face to face but not touching.

“Thanks.” Tom was smiling shyly, his hands shoved in to the pockets of his jeans.

“You’re welcome.”

Neither of them moved. 

“Run with me.” Tom said with a sudden smile.

“What...?”

“Run with me! It’ll be fun.” 

“In these shoes?” Chris quirked an eyebrow.

“So take them off!” The boy’s grin was slightly manic, and there was definitely a challenge there. “Come on!” 

He took off, pelting out of the car park and down the road. He was quite fast, Chris had to acknowledge, but – the vampire removed his shoes and socks, rolling the later up neatly and stowing them in the former - not as fast as him. 

He closed and locked the doors, pocketed the keys...

... and caught up with the werewolf within several seconds.

Tom, still running, grinned at him, feral, eyes shining.

“Finally decided to catch me, eh?” He panted.

Chris, easily keeping pace, smiled serenely, then abruptly bundled him sideways, eliciting a combined squawk and giggle, in to the small communal park they were passing. 

“Watch it!” Tom cautioned but the vampire had nigh supernatural dexterity and strength, he wasn’t going to let him trip. 

“What are you doing, Chris?” Tom asked, breathless but not afraid as he was fetched up face first against a tree. 

“Guess.” Chris whispered by his ear.

“You’re going to fuck me here? In the open?” 

“There’s no one around.” Chris mouthed his neck, resting his teeth over the boy’s pulse.

“If I said no?”

Chris licked him, tasting salt.

“Then I’d stop. I’m not a barbarian. ”

“W-well then.” Tom’s voice was shaky: Chris already had his fly open and was palming him through his underpants. “Have at it then.”

“Leave your hands on the tree.” Chris commanded when Tom went to push his jeans down. The boy exhaled a giggle and pushed back against the vampire’s crotch.

“Do you want me to call you ‘sir’?”

“Not this time.”

Tom was bare from the waist down, jeans and undies pooled around his ankles. He moaned at the feel of Chris’ cock nudging between his buttocks and swore loudly when he was breached, the vampire driving straight in. 

“All right?” Chris asked. 

Tom nodded, quick and sharp, unable to say anything because there was a cold hand clamped over his mouth, to firmly muffle any further vocalisations. Chris withdrew a little then slid back in, testing for resistance. There was none; the boy was open and relaxed, though tensing up nicely again with Chris’ free hand wrapped around his cock.

Unlike their recent bout in the car this started, and ended, hard and fast, a frenetic rutting that left them drained, sated, and Tom at least, sweaty and trembling with fatigue.

Chris took his hand away from the were’s mouth – Tom had bitten down but thankfully not broken the skin – and eased out of his body. The scent of gamey blood made his nostrils twitch.

“Did I hurt you?”

“Nah.” Tom shuffled around to face him, movement still restricted by the clothes around his ankles, then collapsed back against the tree. “Just a scratch.”

He lifted his t-shirt to display the shallow grazes on his abdomen where he’d been scraped against the tree bark. Then he yawned widely, radiating replete satisfaction.

“Now can I give you a lift?” Chris had knelt down in front of him and was pulling back up the werewolf’s garments: Tom didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get dressed so... 

“That was your cunning plan? Wear me out so I have no choice but to allow you to drive me home?”

“You have seen through my dastardly design. Oh no.” Chris smirked and leant forward to nuzzle at Tom’s belly, just above his pubes, while avoiding the beads of unappetizing blood dotting his pale skin. 

He breathed in the scent of the boy; their combined scents. Oops. Hopefully his clothes would soak up any leakage before it stained the upholstery.

“Oh god, don’t.” Tom whined. “I couldn’t go again... Not without practise.”

He was smiling but there was no disguising the hopeful tone in his voice. Chris didn’t say anything: he wasn’t going to encourage the creature. He didn’t need a problematic relationship on top of everything else. 

He stood up to finish the valet service, zipping up Tom’s jeans and putting temptation at least symbolically out of reach.

“Can you get back to the car or do I need to carry you?”

Tom laughed. 

“You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Slung over my shoulder like a sack of wheat.”

“I’ll spare myself that indignity then.” Tom pushed himself away from the tree and winced. “I’m not running though.” He gestured back the way they’d come. “Feel free if you want to. I’ll meet you there.”

Chris shrugged.

“It’s not a bad night for a walk...”

Neither of them felt the need to talk on the way back to the car park bar, and the silence was... companionable. Chris opened the passenger door for Tom, like a gentleman, earning himself a wide, sweet and somewhat dozy smile. Similarly, they were quiet on the way to Tom’s house, save for Chris’ enquiries about the best route to take, and Tom’s appreciation of the Jag’s engine.

They pulled up in front of what Tom had said was his place, but was in reality a street over. Not entirely trusting then, Chris was relieved to note.

“Thanks for the lift. I can’t invite you in. My par- ... I don’t live alone.” Tom’s nose wrinkled. “Is that actually a thing? You have to be invited?”

“It is considered rude to just walk in to someone’s home.” Chris smirked. “Even the humans think so.”

Tom huffed, understanding he was being teased, then smiled apologetically. 

“I don’t know much about... this.” He pointed at Chris, at himself.

“Well, we’re not supposed to get along.” The vampire was nonchalant.

“We do though, don’t we? Get along?”

“We do.” Chris was using the distant, political smile now: Tom saw it, and his face fell. “Goodnight, Tom.”

The boy stifled another sigh.

“Yeah, goodnight. Thanks for the lift.” He climbed out of the car, unhappiness clearly expressed in the slump of his shoulder, the downwards tilt of his head.

Chris silently cursed himself for an idiot.

“Tom.”

“Yes?” The boy bent his lanky frame over so he could look back in. He was being very careful to show no emotion either way.

“Do you like the theatre...?”

“It just so happens that I do.”

Tom’s smile... if Chris’d had a living heart it would’ve skipped one beat at minimum. He’d known the boy was going to be trouble but just at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care...

**Author's Note:**

> I have a list of AU tropes. I seem to be working through them...
> 
> And the title of this? I wanted something that dripped gothicky pretentiousness.


End file.
